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You slowly followed the Cardinal down the empty halls towards his office. The dreaded anticipation made your stomach twist into knots and your heart race as both of your footsteps echoed.
A few days ago you’d woken with bruised hips and your body aching. A strange sort of lethargy had overwhelmed you and you had struggled to get out of bed. You couldn’t recall where the bruises had come from—but it wasn’t the first time. Perhaps you had walked into something or a nightmare had you tossing and turning—though you could barely recall any dreams you’d had. No matter the cause you’d been unable to complete your duties and had informed Sister Imperator you were unwell and had spent several days locked away in your bedroom until you had felt better.
You hadn’t seen the Cardinal in days and today’s shift in the library had been no different to any other. When it had finished and he had requested you come with him to his office you’d been entirely on edge. He didn’t seem displeased—he was no stranger to displaying any wrath—but nevertheless, the man slightly frightened you. He was entirely magnetic but still terrifying. Yet you had no idea why he had made you come to his office, you were always so careful.
“A drink, Sorella?” he says, making you focus back on the present.
He’d just made tea. You’d been watching his gloved hands as he busied himself with it all as you sat across from his large desk. A ghoul had brought a tea tray in with boiling water along with a teapot and two dainty teacups. The Cardinal had mentioned something about them never preparing it right so he preferred to make it himself. It was strange watching him make tea—such a simple thing—but his hands moved methodically and you couldn’t help but relax a little. Surely you were not in trouble? Siblings did not get invited to have tea with Cardinal Copia.
You nod in response to his question and he poured you a cup before pushing it across his large desk towards you. You were certainly not going to be rude and decline it. Blowing across the liquid to cool it a little, you then take a tentative sip. It was a little sweet but it was still nice and so you took another.
“Thank you, Your Eminence.”
Copia smiles. “Always so polite, dolce. Something I am always so appreciative of.”
The endearment catches you off guard but you like the way he said it—as if he had said it to you a hundred times before. You let yourself relax even further, though you do shift a little in your chair as you offer a shy smile in response.
“However I must say I was disappointed to see you missed both your Thursday and Friday shift last week.”
He moves the tea tray to a sideboard before he sits at his desk across from you. You notice he hadn’t poured himself a cup, had he gone out of his way just to make you tea? You watch him tidy a few sheets of paper on his desk before neatly placing them to the side. That mismatched gaze is on you intently as he steeples his gloved fingers together before him. He looks so imposing in his black cassock and black gloves—like a true harbinger of darkness.
“Oh, Cardinal, I am sorry,” you say earnestly. “I wasn’t feeling well and Sister Imperator excused me from my duties for a few days.”
“You did not inform me directly, Sister,” he says firmly, “please make sure you do in future.” You nod and he raises a brow though you notice his lips twitch. “I am sorry to hear you were unwell. I trust you are recovered now?”
“I must have come down with something,” you reply. “But yes, I am much better now.”
He taps his fingers together, the leather gloves creaking as he does.
“You do understand that you must be punished, si?”
“Punished?” Your stomach twists in nervous anticipation.
“I expect all the siblings here to take their duties seriously,” he says, eyes never leaving you. “If you are unable to make your shift you are to inform me, not Imperator.”
“But—” you stop at the look on his face. You are not going to make this worse. “Yes, Cardinal.” You take another sip of tea and then look down at your lap. “I understand if you require me to make up for my time and do any extra hours.”
“No.”
You glance up and find him still staring at you—though his expression has changed a little. He looks…you don’t know. Manic. It gives you a weird sense of deja vu.
“What do you want me to do?” you ask
For some reason, your words sound a little slurred as if you’ve been drinking. And you feel oddly sleepy—in a pleasantly floaty way. You blink trying to clear the strange fog. You set the teacup on the edge of the desk but miss it and it falls and spills across the plush rug with a gentle thud. You stare at it.
“Sister.”
When you look over to the Cardinal he is standing and moving around his desk to you.
“I’m sorry,” you mumble. “I feel strange. I think I need the doctor.”
You feel his hands come under your arms and pull you to your feet. For a moment you just sway a little, your body feeling so heavy but dreamy. But your mind is buzzing with panic.
“You don’t need a doctor, dolce,” says the Cardinal. “I just put a little…relaxant in your tea.”
Fear tries to make your heart race but it’s hard to maintain it when you feel so pleasant and sleepy.
“Why?” you manage to ask as he tips your face up to look at his.
“It’ll be easier for you to obey me.”
You blink sluggishly at him, but he just smiles—though it only makes you even more unsettled.
“Listen to my voice.” His eyes are fixed on you, the lull of his voice and that penetrating stare hold you captive. “You missed out on work, dolce, and so you do need to be punished.”
His hands grip your arms and pull you forward, nearly making you stumble but he holds you in place easily. When he quickly moved behind you and slams you face down against the desk you cry out. Your hands press against the cool wood of the desk and you try to push yourself up but you can’t. All you manage to do is send a few documents to the ground. Your limbs feel too heavy and you just slump back down.
You feel his hands roaming over your body, roughly grabbing the hem of your habit and pushing it so it bunches around your waist. When his fingers forcefully pull your panties down your legs and his feet kick your legs apart you feel tears run down your face.
“Cardinal, pl-please,” your words stutter as you try to speak, heart hammering in your chest. “Stop…please.”
Again you try to push yourself up but it’s hard and he shoves your head back down, making your cheek press against the desk. It does feel good when the leather touches your bare skin—only for a moment because he sharply slaps the top of your thigh. It stings and you cry out.
“Do cry, dolce, nobody will hear,” he says sweetly as he delivers a stinging blow to your ass. “They never do.”
How many people had he done this to? You think. The hits keep coming and you’re sobbing into the desk as he alternates hitting the tops of your thighs and your bare ass. Your flesh is stinging after the tenth slap and you lose count as he continues. It’s a weird mix of sensations—your body feels like it’s floating and the sting of his hand is a little addictive. Also, you can’t deny how you’ve definitely thought of him doing this to you. In your imagination, he hadn’t ever hit you this hard, but you couldn’t deny how much your pussy was already dripping. And with how he had you sprawled with your legs parted he could so surely see and it made your face burn with humiliation. Why had he done this? Surely missing a few shifts was not worth such a punishment? And not such a degrading one. It was a very old fashioned sort of punishment but something you expected from the Cardinal. But never something you would have warranted—you were always so careful and polite when you ever interacted with him.
You sigh in relief when you feel a warm palm against your thigh. He must have removed his gloves because it’s just warm skin against your burning flesh. He caresses you softly and you hear him murmur something that sounds like, “so beautiful,” but you can’t be sure. Surely this has ended.
“Good girl, dolce,” he murmurs. “You took that so well, now for the next part of your punishment.”
The fear returns. You feel his fingers against your thigh before they drift up and over your ass. They slide between your cheeks and ghost over your asshole making you flinch away. Please, Lucifer, no, you pray.
“You’re going to be a good little dolly or your punishment will be worse,” says Copia softly.
“No…” You shake your head feebly, sweat making your cheek stick to the wood of the desk. “Don’t.”
“Shhh, la mia bella bambolina.” His hand drifts away before you feel it return, his fingers going straight to your asshole.
They’re wet. And you feel him immediately push a finger inside to the first knuckle. It should have hurt more, you think, but it doesn’t. It must be the relaxant, you think dazedly.
“Just relax like a good dolly,” his voice coos as he slides the finger in further. “See how easy it is?”
Another finger joins the first and you can’t help but moan. Your pussy throbs at the lack of attention. The stretch feels strange but pleasant and you can’t help but try and rock back against his fingers. But then you remember yourself and stop, trying to move away.
“Please… stop…”
His fingers are slowly pumping in and out of your tight hole. You hate that it’s making the arousal in your pussy grow, desperately wishing he was touching you there. You’re soaking wet. Suddenly he removes his fingers and you think he’s done but you hear the rustling of fabric and the gentle clink of his grucifix as he moves about.
“You’re my little fuckdoll, remember, dolce?” he growls as his hand pushes down on the small of your back and you feel the head of his cock slide between your heated cheeks. “That means I can fuck any hole I like, capisce?”
When he starts to push the thick head in, you cry. It stings as he stretches your tight hole until he’s fully inside. He groans as he sinks into you further and you whimper at the overwhelming fullness of being stretched.
“You’ve misbehaved so your pussy will go untouched, bambolina.” His hands grip your hips, pressing into your old bruises. “I know how wet it is, but you’ve been so naughty. Locking yourself away from me for days.”
His slow thrusts send you reeling, his cock stretching you in a way you’d never felt before. Your poor pussy is swollen and throbbing, and you can feel your own slick starting to run down your thighs. It’s humiliating how easily he has made your body submit to him.
The sensation of him filling your ass is becoming all consuming and you can’t help but press back against him for more. It’s nowhere near as good as how he would feel filling your poor wet cunt, but you can’t help how good it is starting to feel.
“I’m going to fill your ass with my cum, dolce.” He leans over you, his body against yours as his hands hold your shoulders down against his desk.
His cock is pumping into your tight hole, the motion pushing you further against the desk with him so close. There’s a stirring of an orgasm building, it’s faint but still there and it makes your breath hitch even as your mind protests against it. His hot breath pants against your ear, and you hear his whispered words against your neck as he continues to fuck your ass.
You whimper as your body is pounded even harder, the edge of the desk digging into the front of your thighs. Your poor neglected pussy is dripping and you try without even thinking to reach between your thighs to rub at your clit. But your arms feel so heavy and too easily Copia grabs your wrist and pins it against the desk near your face.
“No, my little bambolina,” he murmurs. “This is a punishment. You're here to please me like a good fuck doll.”
He thrusts his cock in deeper and you can’t help the moan that falls from your lips.
“You’re such a good little fuck doll though, dolce. You love it so much you naughty little girl.”
“No!” you manage to say. You don’t want this! What were you doing letting him just touch you this way?
Your mind is hazy and you try to move away from him—as you should have done. Why were you not fighting him?
“No?” he asks and you can hear the teasing note in his voice. “No, bambolina?”
His movements pick up, his cock filling your hole and making your stomach tighten in anticipation. You can feel yourself on the edge! But then he pulls out and you moan from the loss of it. His hands roam over your back, over your ass before he delivers a hard smack against one cheek which makes you whimper from the burning sting.
“No?” he repeats.
You feel him slide the length of his cock against the ring of your ass, sending a frisson of pleasure through you. He does it again and you can’t help the way your hips buck back towards him. Your head is too hazy and your body is heavy, you are far too eager to take any pleasure he has to give in this state. The head of his cock is lined up with your tight asshole again but he doesn’t push in, he simply teases you. Tears have started to run down your face as you cry softly.
There is slight pressure against your asshole and instinctively you try and push back but he doesn’t let you.
“See, dolce?” he purrs over you. “You’re just my needy little slut.” He licks up the back of your neck making you shudder while his cock still teases you. “You don’t care what hole I fill as long as I do. Tell me what you are and maybe I’ll be generous.”
Another whimper escapes you and you sluggishly shake your head against the desk. One hand winds itself in your hair and tugs you back so you’re arching off the desk. The other hand then whispers over your skin and cups a breast before his finger quickly pinches a nipple through the fabric of your habit. He seems to know everything about your body and what makes it hum with pleasure.
He does it to the other and it makes your pussy throb and you push back against him again. But it’s when his hand moves down and quickly flicks over your swollen clit that any remaining defences drop and fresh tears fall down your face in your defeat.
“Yes…!” you sob.
“Yes, what?” he asks, giving your hair another rough tug.
“Yes, I’m your needy little slut,” you say, tears still rolling down your face. “I’m your fuck doll, Cardinal!”
“Good girl.” His fingers swipe over your swollen bud again and you moan at the pure pleasure it gives. “What do you want, bambolina, hmm?”
“Fuck me,” you whisper, face burning with shame. “Please.”
Again his fingers flicker over your clit and then back up your body to roll a nipple roughly between his fingers.
“Tell me more, dolce,” he demands. “You have to be good and tell me, I want you to say it.”
You sob out again, your body so on edge and feeling the shame of being sprawled on his desk while he touches you as no other has before. But the want outweighs the humiliation and it’s so hard to think clearly. All you want is for him to keep touching you.
“I’m just your fuck doll, Cardinal.” Your words are nothing more than a pathetic whine. “Please just use me. I want your cock filling my ass like the slut I am!”
You feel and hear his feral moan behind you before his hard length is pressing against your asshole once more. He’s already slicked it in lube again and he pushes in with ease. The fullness makes you moan and your pussy twitches.
A guttural groan escapes him as he starts to fuck you hard. The hand in your hair pushes against your head and forces you back onto the desk so he can thrust long and deep into your tight hole—his fingers gripping your waist tightly. He’s muttering in Italian and a hand leaves your waist to snake down your front to finally rub your clit sending you over the edge quickly.
“So good for me, bambolina,” he pants, mouth pressing open kisses against your neck as your writhe beneath him. “Next time I won’t use lube and will just fuck you raw. Would you like that, dolce? Your screams were so beautiful last time.” His rhythm becomes erratic and his voice ragged. “You protested so much but that pussy of yours was so fucking wet. Cazzo! Such a good little doll you are, dolce!”
His movements are rapid and jerky as he pounds into you. His fingers slide between your soaked slit and he shoves two of them roughly into your aching cunt. You’re far too sensitive that it makes fresh tears roll down your face as you feel overwhelmed by him.
“I love fucking you, bambolina, always such a good little slut for me.” You can tell he must be getting close, his cock swelling within you as fingers pump into you messily. “Don’t you love having my fingers in your little pussy while I fuck your tight asshole? Cazzo—!”
He shudders over you as you feel his cock spill inside your ass— still playing with your pussy until he manages to pull another orgasm for you. You twitch underneath him, nothing but nonsense falling from your lips. You can feel yourself drooling against the desk and it sticking to your face as he removes himself from you. It’s too hard for you to move, you feel like a puppet with its strings cut without him touching you.
“Oh, dolce, look at you,” you hear him sigh, a touch of tenderness in his voice. A hand caresses you gently on your heated flesh and you flinch at the contact. "Adoro vedere il tuo bel buco del culo pieno del mio seme. Così bella.”
You aren’t sure how long you lie there for. But he quickly pulls your panties back up your legs and smooths your habit down with a gentle touch that feels so wrong after what he has just done—after what he has just made you do. He pulls you up on your feet and you wobble as you try to stand. You tip your tear-streaked face up to look at him and he merely smiles, tapping you on the nose before pushing his fingers into your mouth.
Unprompted you suck on them, tasting your own arousal on his fingers and he leers at you before removing his wet digits from your mouth.
“Now you are going to walk down the hall to my rooms,” he says in a sing-song voice laced with wickedness. “And you are going to wait in there like a good dolly and we shall clean you up properly.”
Not a word escapes your lips, too scared to speak.
“Do you understand, dolce?” he asks sharply. “Because if you don’t—if you go running and tell on me like a naughty girl—you will not like what happens to bad dollies. Capisci?”
You nod and quickly do as he says, having no desire to know what he would do if you didn’t.